


In the Right Company

by Kandidlee



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M, vault hunter au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7100500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kandidlee/pseuds/Kandidlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys is a novice vault hunter, but for some reason he has garnered the attention of Handsome Jack. What's a guy to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Right Company

This was supposed to be a straightforward mission. Seriously, it was on the D-rank list. The team in Sanctuary had specifically picked this one out to be Rhys' first solo excursion. He was gonna prove to them that all of their tutelage had actually amounted to something. 

But just as Rhys' luck would have it, everything is already going very, very wrong. His alternative weapon, a pistol, is snagged by the strap on a pipe and flung like a slingshot into a pit of slag, and now…

"NO NO NO! Come on!"

Rhys digs through his pouch for more ammunition, but he's completely dry.

He lowers his smg and stares despairingly at the advancing bandit mob.

All he'd needed to do was clear out this site of any danger so some unknown, aristocratic lady could rebuild a settlement here of some kind. But that's definitely not coming into realization anytime soon, at least not by Rhys' efforts.

"Alright, alright…" Rhys murmurs to himself. "Plan B, then… RUN!"

And then he's off, bounding across the rafters of the aluminum shacks. If his long legs are good for anything, it's running, but the unintelligent taunting of the bandits are still right on his butt.

"Guys?! Hey, guys?!" Rhys pants into his mic, breathless, "The mission kinda went a bit… off-target. Heh."

"Are you kidding me, amigo!?" Mordecai promptly responds. "It was a novice errand!"

Rhys makes a frustrated noise. "Yeah, well, maybe if I'd been spared a few more bullets, I wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Whatever, man. Just get back here, we're not covering for your sorry behind again." Mordecai cuts off the transmission.

Rhys groans and ducks behind some rocks for a breather, having faith the bandits are too scatterbrained to keep up with his zigzagging.

"You know…" an all too familiar, mocking voice sounds over his radio, nearly startling Rhys from out of his hiding spot. "You should get your hands on a Hyperion. I see you like smgs, and boy do I have just the one for you, it's called the 'bitch'."

"Not now! Go away!" Rhys whispers harshly, peeking around the bend to see the bandits dispersing in every which direction. 

Handsome Jack has always enjoyed pestering the Vault Hunters over the echo, but as far as Rhys understands, he is targeted far more regularly than anyone else, and he has no idea why. 

"Wait a sec, how do you even know?"

"It's called satellite, dum-dum."

"And you're watching me? Don't you have some helpless people to plague or something?"

"What do you think I'm doing right now?"

Rhys frowns hard. "Uh- if you're asserting that I am helpless--wow, just wow--I just--I don’t have the words to even begin enlightening you of how mistaken you are." 

"Try. Just try. I wanna hear it."

"Okay, I will." Rhys checks around again, making sure he's still clear. "I'm not dead yet, for one, and I killed like three of those bandits back there."

"Those ones you weren't aiming at?"

"See there, that is talent--" Rhys balks when a bandit runs dangerously close to his position. "Nevermind. Why am I even giving you the light of day." 

He hears Jack begin to say something just as he clicks off the communication.

 

***

 

It's hours later, and Rhys' situation has not gotten any better, it's only quadrupled in severity; A sand storm has picked up, and Rhys is tucked away in some ramshackle hut just trying to survive for the night. 

He's still out of ammo, his shield is blinking in and out, and he is starving. Ya know, all good things.

"Why why why why." Rhys moans, knees folded into his chest and rocking back and forth. He'd thought he was ready for this, but obviously not. 

His radio crackles to life, but it's barely audible over the roaring storm. 

"Hey? You still kickin'?"

It's Axton.

"Yeah! Fine! Totally livin' it up!" Rhys says sarcastically.

"Sorry I couldn't be there for ya, babe. Had a little run in of my own!" 

Rhys blushes at the endearing term, having garnered a little crush on the commando. Axton is one of his main mentors, he really took a liking to the guy the moment he laid eyes on him, and it certainly didn't help that he is hot and a dork. 

"No harm, no foul! Next time, though! Let's call it a date--" Rhys flounders, "I mean. Not like a date-date--but a date, ya know."

"I gotcha!" Axton laughs, and Rhys curses at himself. "I'll mark it on the calendar! Now stay safe for me! G'night!"

Rhys returns the goodnight and woefully ends the call. 

Ah, alone again. Cool.

 

***

 

It's nearly morning and Rhys hasn't slept a second. The wind is whipping around the loose metal frames of the shack, and sand sprinkles in through the cracks right into Rhys' face. It's beyond unpleasant. 

Rhys curls into a tight ball in the middle of the enclosure, cradling his gun to his chest as his only source of comfort. 

How long do these goddamn sandstorms usually last? 

"Pst. Hey, you still awake?"

Rhys jerks up at the sudden transmission and squints down at his radio, barely hearing the voice. How late is it, why would someone be calling him at this hour? 

He warily picks it up.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Ah, damn to hell, so you're not dead."

Rhys squints harder, still not quite registering the voice, but getting an annoyed feeling he knows exactly who it is. 

"This really doesn't help your case, ya know, about not being helpless."

Rhys rolls his eyes and collapses back down. Yup. He knows exactly who this is. 

"Go away." Why is Handsome Jack of all people giving him a late night call? "Groundbreaking, I know, but I'm not your friend. We're kinda sworn enemies, if you didn't know? Why do you keep bothering me?"

"You're breaking my heart, sugar plum."

Rhys gags at the pet name. "Okay. Never ever call me that again."

"What was that, puddin' pop?"

"Alright. Bye-bye." Rhys shuts off the radio for good this time.

 

***

 

It's daytime and the storm has passed, but Rhys is so ready to just give up. He forgot how long the walk was to the nearest fast-travel, and it's bordering on two hours.

His footing is clumsy in his lack of sleep, and he doesn't feel secure at all. He found some food in an abandoned house off the trail, but it was expired, and he thinks he actually would have been better off without it, if the sick feeling in his stomach is any indication. 

His shield officially depleted not too long ago, and he still has had no luck finding ammo.

He probably looks like a dead man walking, a sitting duck.

So it's just the most perfect timing to hear the subtle patter of footsteps behind him.

Rhys whirls around, empty weapon raised with warning.

It's three skags. 

They're little ones that he wouldn't have worried about on any other given day, but he can hardly keep his eyes open right now. He wonders just how long they've been following him.

They begin snarling and expanding their jowls upon his notice, spreading out and forming a circle around him.

Their intelligent eyes flick up and down his exhausted body as if they know he is vulnerable.

"Git!" Rhys bites out, but the skags are unconcerned. Yup, they definitely know. "Hey, I said git!"

The biggest of the skags makes the first move, pouncing at Rhys and snapping at his feet. Rhys manages to connect the stock of his smg solidly into the creature's head, and it lets out a pathetic mewl and retreats back.

"That's right! Scat!" 

But one of the other skags had inched close enough from behind to get a good bite at Rhys' calf.

Rhys cries out and swings his gun around, trying to whack at it, but it's already dodged away and rounding on him again.

"Oh hohoh shit…" Rhys whimpers out.

The skags chirp excitedly and skip around him, faking Rhys out. This is all going in their favor.

Rhys is getting ready to submit to death when a resounding blast ripples from up in the sky. 

Both Rhys and the skags look up at the noise, thoroughly taken off guard.

Helios. It's a moon shot.

And it appears to be coming right for him. 

Like, seriously, right for him. 

It's nothing sizable, it just looks like a small crate. But even a pebble can kill at that velocity.

Can this situation get any more terrible?

Rhys' eyes bulge, and the skags seem to understand the threat too, because even they begin to shrink back.

The crate crash lands a few feet ahead of them with a loud rumble and a spray of sand.

The skags curiously tilt their heads back and forth, trying to comprehend.

Rhys takes the distraction and makes a run for it. The crate could be a bomb, it could spew toxic gas, it could be any manner of things dedicated to his death --but he'd take any of those over being eaten alive.

The skags instantly snap out of their stupor and barrel after him.

Rhys' breaths are quick and frightened as he slams his fist onto the lid of the crate. It pops open with a release of air. 

What's inside is certainly unexpected.

The crate is full to the brim with munitions and healing hypos, but most notably, a sleek red submachine gun framed to the lid like a showcase.

Is this… is this meant for him?

But Rhys doesn't have the time to ponder it; he hurriedly grabs the smg and unloads it on the skags. 

He is riveted to find out the weapon uses incendiary rounds. They ignite the skags upon contact, sending them yowling and tumbling to the earth in a crisp lump of sizzling skin.

"H-holy shit!" Rhys exclaims, fist pumping into the air and hopping up and down with thanks to the heavens.

He wastes no more time and digs further into the crate. 

Of course this is not for him, why would Hyperion help a vault hunter? But he'll undoubtedly steal every last bit of it without a shred of guilt.

When Rhys gets down to the bottom of the supply, he finds an orange radiant shield called "The Bee". It's a top notch amp. He really hit the jackpot here.

Even more curious, Rhys scans the beautiful, novel smg strapped to his hip. It's a legendary class weapon, and it reads simply "Bitch".

Rhys gapes at it, creeping with suspicion. He recalls Jack pointedly recommending this one to him.

It's… a coincidence, it must be.

***


End file.
